


don't leave me this way

by mardia



Series: satellites [3]
Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa hums in agreement and lowers her head down onto his chest again, and Mark says, his voice blurry from sleep, “I like your ideas though. They’re good ideas.” (Shameless porn, set a few years after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5501852">All This Could Be Yours</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't leave me this way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/gifts).



> ...I could pretend like I feel shame about this, but let's be real, I don't. Not for the fic or for the title, which comes from the Thelma Houston song of the same name. Written for angelsaves, because she is the best, even if she doesn't discourage me from using titles like this.

His eyelids heavy with sleep, Mark smiles quietly to himself as Melissa comes back into bed and curls up against him, reaching out to rub his wrist, where the rope has left marks on his skin. “So that was a success, I think,” she muses, and Mark has to laugh. 

“What part gave it away, the part where you had me incoherent and begging you to let me come?” he asks, and Melissa lifts her head up from where it’s resting on his chest to give him a wolfish grin. 

“Yeah, I liked that part,” she tells him and Mark says, dryly, “Yeah, I figured you would.” 

Melissa hums in agreement and lowers her head down onto his chest again, and Mark says, his voice blurry from sleep, “I like your ideas though. They’re good ideas.”

He can hear Melissa’s grin as she says, “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Mark smiles but doesn’t say anything else, and carries that promise with him as he falls asleep.

*

A week later, Mark discovers exactly what Melissa meant.

Mark gets up early on a Saturday morning, stands in the kitchen and starts the coffee. He’s sipping his first cup of the day when Melissa comes downstairs, walking quietly on her bare feet to Mark’s side, slipping an arm around his waist. “Hey,” she murmurs, and Mark smiles down at her. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you yet.”

Melissa hums. “I’m up now.” Her hand slips in underneath Mark’s shirt, her fingers warm against his skin, tracing his hipbone, and Mark’s breathing hitches. 

“Melissa--”

“Turn around,” Melissa says, her voice still so calm, and Mark does. The edge of the cabinet bites into the small of his back as he faces Melissa, blindly setting his coffee mug behind him with a dull thunk. 

Melissa’s pressed in close against him, her hand still resting low on his abdomen, her face impassive but her eyes alight and Mark says, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, “So we’re starting this? Already?”

“Unless you have any objections,” Melissa says, lightly, and Mark quickly shakes his head. 

“Nope, no objections here,” he says, nearly tripping over his words. “Green light all the way.”

The smile on Melissa’s face is enough alone to have Mark’s heart racing, never mind the way her hands are sliding up underneath his shirt, thumbing at his nipples slowly. And for an eternity, she seems content to do just that, working his nipples until they’re so sensitive they’re aching, kissing him until Mark’s entire world has narrowed down to her, her mouth, her hands, the warmth of her body against his--

And then Melissa drags her nails down his chest, slips her hand past the waistband of Mark’s ragged sweatpants that he only wears around the house, and taking his cock with a firm grip. 

“Jesus,” Mark mutters against her mouth, panting a little as he rocks into her grip. He can feel Melissa’s smile, and Mark has to pull back to look at her, dazed, at her easy smile and the morning sunlight streaming through the windows, bathing her and their kitchen in a warm glow. 

“Relax, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, looking up into Mark’s face, her thumb rubbing against the slit of his cock. 

“I’m relaxed,” Mark protests automatically, “I’m so relaxed right now--” and then Melissa twists her wrist just so, and Mark groans, his hips jerking before he can control himself, promptly forgetting whatever else he was going to say. 

The satisfaction in Melissa’s smile is a gorgeous sight. And Mark knows--he _knows_ what’s going to happen, he does, but it’s so easy to not think about it, to just exist in this moment, to give himself up to what Melissa’s doing to him, the way she’s taking him apart with her hand on his aching cock, her avid gaze on his face as she watches him break--

And right when Mark’s about to come, right when the pleasure is building and building until it has to snap--that’s when Melissa takes her hand away, leaves him with an erection tenting his sweatpants, so hard that he can barely _think_. 

“Oh my God,” Mark says blankly, staring down at her.

Melissa looks mostly unruffled, but there’s a telltale flush to her cheeks. “You knew how this was going to go,” she points out, and Mark gapes at her before rubbing a hand over his face. His face, not his cock, no matter how badly it needs attention right now. Jesus Christ. 

“I didn’t think you’d start this early in the day,” he protests, and Melissa just raises an eyebrow at him. “Although clearly I should’ve,” Mark mutters, correcting himself, and Melissa nods smugly in agreement.

*

The second time it happens, Mark’s in their office. He’s hip-deep in the latest issue of the _American Journal of Botany_ , reviewing an article he was linked to by a colleague when Melissa comes knocking on the open door. “Hey,” she says. 

Normally Mark would be wise to what a “hey” from Melissa in that tone means, but it’s a running joke now how absorbed Mark gets when reading articles, so he absently responds with a “Hey, what’s--” before he comes back to himself, giving Melissa a deeply suspicious look over his glasses. 

Melissa doesn’t look at all discomfited at being caught out, she just gives him that grin of hers and asks, teasingly, “Am I interrupting?”

Mark looks at her, then slowly shuts his laptop. “No.”

“Because I could come back later,” Melissa says, still with that innocent air. “You know, if you were busy.”

Mark tries to keep a stern look as she comes around the desk to stand in front of him, but breaks after two seconds, grinning up at her as he asks, half-laughing, “When am I ever too busy for you?” 

Melissa grins at him for that, and then she slides onto her knees, so smooth and graceful that for a second, Mark doesn’t quite realize what’s happened, what’s happening now. 

Then the penny drops, and Mark’s jaw drops with it. “Wait, what--”

Her hand’s already on his cock and Melissa just looks at him, eyebrows raised as she says, “I would hope this is fairly obvious,” her voice drier than the goddamn Sahara.

“You’re going to kill me,” Mark breathes out, still lifting up his hips so she can tug his sweatpants down, gripping the armrests as she takes his cock out of his boxers. 

“Be a shame if that happened at this date,” Melissa says wryly, and then she lowers her head and Mark abruptly can’t think of anything at all, much less a quippy reply.

He can barely breathe if he’s honest, not with Melissa’s mouth hot and tight around his cock, her tongue swirling around the head, slowly setting up a rhythm that has Mark biting back noises, his teeth sharp on his lower lip as he tries to hold himself still, tries to--

And then Melissa _sucks_ , hard, at the head and Mark hisses out, heartfelt, “Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Melissa--” And even if his head had been focused on that article before, his body remembers what happened in the kitchen, how close he’d been to coming, and now all his nerve endings are alight, every inch of his body taut with desire. But there’s nothing to do, nothing he _can_ do but carefully, carefully thread his fingers through Melissa’s soft hair and tell her how good this feels, nothing to do but say “please” over and over again, knowing all the while that this will end, that she’ll stop when she wants to stop and not a second sooner, that all Mark can do is sit here and take whatever she wants to give him.

By the time Melissa pulls off, Mark’s breathing is harsh in his ears, and he says faintly, “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re going to kill me.”

Melissa sits back on her heels, methodically wiping at her mouth and chin as she tells him, her eyes sparkling, “You keep saying that, and it still hasn’t happened yet.”

She moves to get up, and Mark says, his entire body aching, unfulfilled, “So this is what’s going to happen all day?”

“That’s the program, yeah,” Melissa says, smiling sweetly at him, her lips red and soft, and Mark wants her so much that it almost hurts.

“At least let me touch you,” he tries to argue next, and Melissa gets to her feet and kisses him quickly on the mouth before she says, simply, “No. Not yet.”

And then she walks out without looking back, her shoulders straight and her gait relaxed, and Mark blankly stares after her for a long moment before getting to his feet, awkwardly tucking his erection back in and pulling up his pants. 

There’s no way he can focus on an article right now. He’ll go out and weed the garden instead. 

The entire time Mark is out there, on his knees, the sun beating down on his back as he’s pulling up weeds by the roots, he knows, he _knows_ Melissa’s watching him from the house, with that faint Mona Lisa smile of hers, waiting for him to come back in so she can finish taking him apart before finally putting him back together again.

His breathing gets heavier at the thought of it, having her hands on him again, her mouth--

Jesus. Mark closes his eyes for a moment before turning his gaze back to the house, shading a hand over his eyes to cut out the glare.

And sure enough, Melissa’s standing there in the window, lifting her hand up in a brief wave. 

Mark returns the wave with one of his one, laughing a little as he does it. 

These moments hit him sometimes, still. Not all the time, but sometimes Mark will look at his life, at Melissa, at the house they have and at the garden they’ve built, and he’ll be hit all over again with a wave of gratefulness, so powerful that it’s almost enough to bring him to his knees. 

God, he’s lucky. In these moments, he can’t breathe, can’t move for thinking about it. 

When the moment passes, Mark comes back to himself and finds that Melissa’s still watching, her fingertips lightly pressed to the glass, her face open and beautiful as she looks back at him. His throat tight, Mark smiles at her once more before turning back to the garden, picking up the last of the weeds and tossing them in his bag.

*

“You remembered to put on sunscreen, right?” Melissa asks later that night, after dinner, and Mark grins at her. 

“Yes, I wore sunscreen,” he says, patiently, and Melissa gives him a look. 

“I ask because you forget sometimes--”

“I don’t forget to put on sunscreen,” Mark says indignantly. “And can I just say, one of us has gotten sun poisoning before and it wasn’t me.”

“I was _nine_ \--” Melissa starts, and then huffs out a laugh, twisting about so that she’s facing him on the couch, rather than the TV. Mark goes very still as Melissa reaches out to touch the back of his neck. Her fingertips are warm on his bare skin, her touch light, but Mark feels electrified regardless. 

Eyes still closed, he asks, “So what, is the third time the charm?”

“Oh, Mark,” Melissa says, sounding endlessly amused. “As if I would tell you.”

She sounds so amused, so playful, and when Mark opens his eyes again, she’s grinning at him, her eyes lit up, laugh lines peeking out at the edges, and in that moment Mark wants nothing more than to kiss her, touch her, go down on his knees and--and just give her everything.

She can see it in his face too; her smile fades but her eyes still have that luminous quality to them. “At least let me touch you this time,” Mark says, and if his voice sounds more ragged now, well, that’s her fault. “God, please--I’ve been a wreck all day, just let me touch you--”

Melissa bites at her lip, and says finally, “If I did--I’m still not going to let you come.”

Mark huffs out a laugh, and says, “Yeah, I know. It’s okay. Just let me touch you this time.”

Melissa gives him a long look, and then leans in to kiss him. Nothing like the kisses from before, either--this kiss has _intent_ , slow and deep and thorough. When she pulls back, it’s only for a moment before she’s coming back to kiss him again, harder, more urgent now. 

It’d be almost embarrassing how quickly he gets hard again, just from kissing her like this, except that Mark has basically lost the ability to be ashamed in front of Melissa, not after all they’ve been through. There’s a relief to it, being able to give himself up like this, without being afraid or self-conscious--he can just relax and feel this, Melissa’s mouth on his, her hands in his hair--and then Melissa’s moving to straddle his lap, throwing a leg over his hips and sinking down on top of him in one graceful movement, and Mark groans. 

“Oh God,” he says, dragging air into his lungs. “Oh, Jesus please--”

Melissa cuts him off by kissing him again, roughly, her teeth sharp on his lip, tilting his head up so she can kiss him even more thoroughly now, grinding down again his cock, trapped and leaking inside of his sweatpants and Mark can’t breathe, he can’t think, all he can do is lie back here and feel this, feel Melissa on top of him, against him--

It’s too much, it’s all too much, and Mark’s gasping out, “I can’t, I can’t--”

Melissa pulls back to look him over, her mouth pink and wet, and she asks, “Too much?”

His cheeks hot, Mark nods, and Melissa says soothingly, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Her hands run through his hair, nails brushing the skin at the nape of his neck. Mark takes deep breaths, his thumbs rubbing circles against Melissa’s hips, her skin soft against the palms of his hands, and finally he can look up at her and say, “I’m good, I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” Melissa asks. “You want to keep going?”

“Yeah,” Mark nods. “Yeah, green light, I can take it.” Melissa doesn’t move, and Mark admits, “I, uh, just didn’t want things to end too quickly.”

Melissa tilts her head and says, knowing, “You mean, you don’t want to come before I tell you it’s okay.”

Mark shakes his head, and Melissa drops a kiss on his mouth, brief and sweet. “Good,” she says simply, and it’s incredible how that word sinks into him, hot and heavy. “Hang on, let me try something.”

What Melissa ends up doing is shifting her weight so that she’s straddling his leg, careful not to rub against his cock so directly. Once she’s settled, Melissa looks down at him, her hair falling around her shoulders, over her face and asks, “Okay?”

Mark nods, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. The light from the TV, muted but still on, is casting a blue glow around Melissa’s head, her face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he remarks, unthinking, and Melissa flashes him a quick smile. 

“So you keep telling me,” she says, and then Melissa braces her hands on the back of the couch, and begins to move. 

She’s already close, Mark can tell from the way she’s moving, those tiny jerks of her hips as she grinds down against Mark’s thigh, her breathing hitching in her throat as she presses her mouth to his, searching and desperate. Mark grips her at the waist to pull her in closer, lifts up his leg so she can get what she needs, and when she can’t focus enough to kiss him, Mark presses kisses to her cheek, her throat, murmuring over and over, “That’s it, that’s it, just take it, come on, I want to see you, I want to _see_ \--”

Melissa comes on a quiet gasp, her body going rigid for one long moment before she slumps into Mark’s arms, dropping her head into the nape of his neck, her breath hot through the thin material of his shirt.

Mark’s chest is heaving, and right now all he would likely need to come is a single touch to his cock, but he doesn’t move an inch, he just keeps his arms wrapped around Melissa’s waist and tries to match the rhythm of his breathing to hers, until they’re in sync.

“Well, fuck,” Melissa says finally, sounding sated and amused in equal measure, and Mark’s laughter bubbles up to the surface, idly touching her bare leg as he replies, “You already did that. Repeatedly.”

“You good?” Melissa asks next, lifting her head up to look him in the face, and Mark nods.

“Green light,” he promises softly, and Melissa just looks at him for a second longer, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, before she kisses him, slow and sweet. 

*

When Mark comes to bed, Melissa’s naked under the bedsheets. Mark raises an eyebrow, even as he’s enjoying the sight of Melissa’s bare shoulders, her red hair, creating a gorgeous contrast against the blue sheets. 

Melissa smiles up at him. “Hey. Come here.”

His body humming, Mark sits at the edge of the bed. Melissa gives him an amused look but doesn’t actually protest. Instead she settles in and asks, “So how has it been today.”

“Good,” Mark says, touching her bare arm, her shoulder. “It’s been, uh, a lot. But good. Really good.”

The words feel completely inadequate, but Melissa’s looking at him like she understands, like she knows what this does for him, how it makes him feel--but she does. She does know, and that’s why she gives this to him, a gift that he never has to explain or justify needing.

“I want it to be good for you,” Melissa’s murmuring now. “Tell me what you want right now.”

Mark looks down at her, and says after a moment, his voice hoarser than before, “I want to go down on you. So badly.”

Mark’s looking into her face, so he can see the way that hits her, how her eyes darken, her lips part before she licks at them with her tongue, saying simply, “Okay. Go ahead.”

She lifts her arms above her head, waiting, and Mark’s mouth goes dry. He slowly pulls the sheets away, and takes a moment to stare--at the curve of her breast, the freckles scattered across her stomach, the strong lines of her body.

Mark settles himself between her thighs, and finally he can lean in and put his mouth on her, he can suck on her clit and sink two fingers into her, he can taste her and touch her and not stop--

He keeps going, reveling in it, Melissa’s fingers tightly gripping his hair, the way her thighs clench around his face, the taste of her on his tongue, all of it so overwhelming that when Melissa finally comes with a soft cry, her fingers tightening around his hair, Mark’s brain goes blissfully blank. 

Shuddering, he lifts his head to find Melissa watching him, her eyes bright, her face flushed as she orders, her voice cracking around the words, “Mark, get up here already.”

Mark crawls up her body, every part of him alight, and Melissa immediately drags him into a kiss, licking into his mouth even as she twists beneath him, lining his cock up--

\--and then Mark’s sliding into her with one smooth thrust, and Mark’s gasping out a “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” while Melissa runs her hands along his back, urging him on, her hips rising up to meet his thrusts, the two of them falling into a rough rhythm, but Mark’s too wound up to keep to it, it’s too much, not when she’s slick and hot and tight around him and he can’t, he can’t--

“It’s okay,” Melissa’s panting in his ear, and Mark dimly realizes he’s pleading into the nape of her neck, begging for relief, for release. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I want you to--”

And so he moves, blind and desperate, he fucks into her, helpless low cries escaping his throat, a litany of “ah, ah, ah--” in time with his thrusts until finally, finally he’s coming, hard enough that his toes curl and his muscles cramp, his vision whiting out for a long second.

By the time Mark comes to himself, he’s collapsed on top of Melissa, his face buried in the pillow, limp. Melissa’s hands are moving on his back, his neck, anywhere she can reach, murmuring words in a low voice that Mark can’t quite hear yet. 

“Holy shit,” he groans faintly, overwhelmed, before somehow summing the strength to heave himself off, flopping onto his back with a low groan. His eyelashes are damp and his skin is slick with sweat, every inch of his skin is buzzing and he’s not sure he’ll be able to move. 

He feels fucking fantastic. 

“Damn,” Melissa says, and Mark turns her head to see her grinning up at the ceiling. “That was--”

“Amazing,” Mark breathes out, reaching for her hand, lifting it to his mouth and brushing a kiss along her knuckles. “Jesus, thank you for that, that was incredible.”

Melissa turns onto her side, curling into him, saying softly, “Don’t thank me. I like giving you what you want.”

Mark kisses her hand again, looking over at her, filled with so much love and gratitude and wonder that he can’t imagine for a second how his body can contain it all. Surely it’ll be too much--but then, it hasn’t yet. “Me too,” he says, sincere, and Melissa just smiles before she kisses him, her hair falling around his face like a curtain, blocking everything else out but her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as themardia.


End file.
